


Not as Easy as Abracadabra

by orderlychaos



Series: The Adventures of Wizard!Clint [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Flirting, Hugs, M/M, Non-SHIELD AU, Pancakes, cameo by Skye, human!Phil, imp!Jasper, magical au, modern day New York City, not a Harry Potter AU, not quite a Harry Dresden AU, wizard!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Groaning weakly, Clint decided to stay where he was for a minute.  Or until he could persuade his vision to stop sliding in and out of focus.  The cold concrete underneath Clint wasn't exactly comfortable, but at least it wasn't trying to kill him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Somewhere above him, Jasper was fluttering in mad circles, cackling with laughter.</em>
</p><p>Clint Barton's life isn't exactly easy at the best of times.  And that's not just because he's a wizard, or that his familiar is a particularly sarcastic and unhelpful imp.  He also kind of fails and human interaction.  Like actually calling the guy he has a crush on (and who makes the best coffee ever) and asking him out on a date.  Luckily, Clint has friends to give him a push.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not as Easy as Abracadabra

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ralkana for helping me bounce ideas :) Also, all credit must go to her for the line when Clint asks Phil out :)
> 
> Also, this fic has only been edited by me, so any mistakes are mine.

 

_Tao of Hawkeye #13:  When the Council asks for a favour, it’s inevitably going to hurt._

For a vague second, Clint Barton was aware of careening through the air like a fish trying to fly, before he slammed into a solid wall - and reality - with a crash.  Pain exploded across the back of his head and flared down his ribs, before gravity took over and he tumbled to the ground in a heap.  Electricity sparked painfully over his skin as Clint gasped up at the dark sky and looming buildings above him.  Groaning weakly, Clint decided to stay where he was for a minute.  Or until he could persuade his vision to stop sliding in and out of focus.  The cold concrete underneath Clint wasn't exactly comfortable, but at least it wasn't trying to kill him.  Even though there was something wet and no doubt _disgusting_ seeping through his jeans.  The alleys of New York were never sanitary, and Clint was really regretting his choice not to put on underwear.

Somewhere above him, Jasper was fluttering in mad circles, cackling with laughter.

“Ow,” Clint muttered petulantly, squinting upwards with a one eyed glare at his imp.

“I told you not to poke it,” Jasper announced between bursts of giggles.

Clint’s brain was still rattling around his skull thanks to the massive jolt of magic that had just zapped him, but he was pretty sure he wasn't missing anything vital.  Hopefully.  It was reasons like that why he _hated_ doing favours for the Council.  He almost always ended up bleeding.  “I hate the Council.  I really do.  Jasper, make a note.  No more helping the Council.   _Ever_ ,” he growled.

“You said that last time,” the imp said helpfully, fluttering a little closer.

Clint sighed and covered his face with his hand.  He knew it had been a bad idea to get up that morning - the fact that it was currently three am the day after totally didn’t change that.  In fact, it made it worse.

“Gods, I want coffee right now,” he said with a sigh.

“Well, if you climb out of the puddle, I might be nice enough to buy you some,” an amused and very familiar voice offered.

Squinting out between his fingers, Clint spotted Detective Maria Hill leaning against the alley wall, with her arms folded over her chest.  As always, Maria’s dark hair was pulled back from her face, drawing attention to her sharp blue eyes, and her badge gleamed on her belt.  Arching her eyebrow, Maria turned her attention from Clint to Jasper, who had eventually drifted down to sit on Clint’s stomach.  He was actually getting kind of heavy for someone who was only the size of a tea cup.  “Did the magic fry his brain, or is he just having a slow day?” Maria asked the imp.

Jasper peered worriedly at Clint.  “Are you okay, Boss?” he said.

Clint waved a hand in Maria’s direction.  “I’m just… catching my breath,” he replied, because he was.  Mostly.

“Uh huh,” Maria drawled.

Carefully, Clint scooped Jasper off his stomach, before he slowly picked himself up off the alley floor.  If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost ignore the way his bones were still vibrating.  Tucking Jasper onto his shoulder, where the imp immediately cuddled into the space between Clint’s neck and his jacket collar, Clint turned to Maria.  “So what brings you to this side of town, Detective?” he asked.

“Same thing as you, I imagine,” Maria replied.

Clint frowned.  Maria was half human and half Sidhe, which was a whole lot of complicated - and Clint didn’t just mean the politics.  In a more specific sense, it meant Maria was part High Fae and pretty in tune with the magic going on around her.  It wasn’t really surprising the Council’s little problem had drawn her out.  Clint didn’t begrudge Maria that - he’d just never quite figured out whose side she was on.  Maria wasn’t aligned to either of the Fae Courts, because she wasn’t suicidal or nuts, but she did have an annoying habit of turning up in the middle of Clint’s investigations.  Clint had stopped believing that was coincidence a _long_ time ago.  Of course, Maria had also saved his life that one time from a rampaging ogre, so there was that.

Rolling her eyes, Maria motioned at the swirling vortex of magic still sparking ominously at the mouth of the alley.  “I assume the Council has no clue what’s going on?” she said, a wry smile curving the edge of her mouth.

Clint warily eyed the vortex for a minute.  Just like Blake had described when he’d delivered the Council’s request, the tangled magic looked sort of like a lightning storm contained in a large bubble.  Clint shrugged with a frown.  “Blake says it’s outside the Council’s abilities,” he said.

Maria blinked, eyeing the magical vortex a little more suspiciously than before.  “And is it?” she asked.

Clint shrugged again.  “It shouldn’t be,” he answered.  “Untangling things like this is why Blake gets up in the morning.”

With a deep breath, Clint closed his eyes and stretched out his magical senses.  The swirling inside the bubble was even more chaotic now that Clint could see the details of the spell - or rather, the remnants of the spell that had created it.  Frowning, Clint stretched his senses out further, trying to figure out what the spell had been trying to tap into.  There was a lot more remnant energy that a simple transportation spell, or even a summoning.  When Clint’s senses brushed against a dark, shuddering space, his entire stomach lurched.  Beneath the cracked concrete of the alley, one of the city’s smaller ley lines should have been burning bright with magic, obvious to anyone with even a small touch of a gift.  Instead, it was dark, the magic almost gone, like someone had turned off the tap.

Snapping his eyes open, Clint took a step backwards.

“What is it?” Maria asked.

“Boss, you’ve gone all pale and that’s not a good look for you,” Jasper added quietly, peering up at Clint from Clint’s shoulder.

“That’s…” He cleared his throat.  “It’s the remnant of a spell.  Someone used it to tap into a ley line to draw power.”

Maria arched her eyebrow again.  “Shouldn’t Blake or his minions have spotted that?”

A bad feeling settled into the pit of Clint’s stomach.  “If Blake had come himself, maybe,” he replied.  “Whoever caused this sucked the ley line almost dry.  I can barely feel it humming.  One of the junior wizards Blake would have sent to take a look probably wouldn’t have sensed it at all.”

Jasper shivered and nestled closer to Clint’s neck.  “Bad,” he whispered.  “That’s very bad.”

Maria cursed.  “So you’re telling me that some magic user has been going around the city sucking power out of ley lines and no one _noticed_?” she demanded.

“That’s one theory,” Clint said, running a hand through his hair.

With a sigh, Maria pushed away from the wall.  “I’ll put out word to my contacts.  See if anybody knows anything,” she said.  “We might get lucky before this whole thing blows up in our faces.”

Clint blinked, surprised at the offer of help.  “Thanks,” he said.

Maria rolled her eyes.  “Call it an early Christmas present,” she replied.  “Besides, Natasha will be pissed if you get dead before your first date with Coffee Guy.”

Wincing, Clint wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or embarrassed that Maria knew all about his crush on Phil.  He wasn’t about to bring the fact up that even though Clint and Phil had been texting each other for days, Clint hadn’t exactly _asked_ Phil out on a date yet, either.  “Come on,” Maria said, slapping Clint on the shoulder.  “I’ll buy you that coffee.”

~*~

About an hour later, Clint was sitting in a cracked leather booth in his favourite late night diner.  True to her word, Maria had bought him a cup of coffee, but even as exhausted as he was, Clint wasn’t really enjoying it.  He would have preferred a cup of Phil’s coffee, but _Bean There, Done That_ wouldn’t be open for another hour and a half.  Instead, Clint was consoling himself with the largest stack of pancakes that could fit on a plate, a huge pile of scrambled eggs and toast, and a plate of bacon.  Every so often, Clint would break off a small piece of pancake and sneak it down to Jasper, who was hiding in his pocket.  Maria watched the whole thing with a rather bemused smile, sipping her own coffee.

Untangling the remnants of the spell in the alley hadn’t been hard, but Clint hadn’t managed to release much magic either.  The ley line had still been faint and sickly looking when he’d left and that worried Clint a lot.  None of the spells that needed that kind of power were good.  Most of them, in fact, were very, very bad.  Clint had no idea what was going to happen when he told the Council, but he knew Blake would probably find a way to blame him for it anyway.  Pancakes wouldn’t exactly solve that, but they wouldn’t hurt.  Plus, Clint was _starving_.

When the bell above the diner’s door jangled, Clint looked up and then promptly choked on his mouthful of pancake.  Out of all the people he expected to see at a hole-in-the-wall diner at quarter to five in the morning, Phil Coulson did not even make the list.  Yet, there he was, standing in a well-worn hoodie and sweatpants, a pair of battered sneakers on his feet.  Phil looked rumpled and soft around the edges in a way he never was at the coffee shop.  If it wasn’t for his alert expression and the shadows under his eyes, Clint would have said Phil had just rolled out of bed.  Clint was suddenly _very_ aware of the fact that it had been five days since Phil had given Clint his number, and Clint hadn’t actually called yet.  Sheepishly, he lifted his fork and waved.  Phil smiled back.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Maria muttered.  Glancing at her, Clint opened his mouth to protest, but Maria just shook her head.  “If you think for a second I’m getting in the middle of this shit, Barton, you need your head checked,” she said, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Sliding to her feet, Maria headed over to Phil.  After a quiet conversation filled with various hand gestures, the detective practically shoved Phil in Clint’s direction.  Awkwardly, Phil slid onto the cracked leather seat opposite Clint.  “Uh… hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Clint replied, hoping he didn’t have maple syrup smeared on his face or something.

Phil peered at him as the waitress came passed and offered him a cup of coffee.  “Another tough case?” he asked when the waitress retreated.

Frowning, Clint glanced down at the large plates of food surrounding him and refused to blush.  This wasn’t Clint most attractive moment - his jeans were still stained from whatever puddle he’d fallen into, his hair was more than a little scruffy, and his battered leather jacket had definitely seen better days.

“I meant the black eye,” Phil said quietly, gesturing towards Clint’s face and his mouth pulled down into something that wasn’t quite a frown.

Oh.  Right.  The goblin.

Clint shrugged, smiling wryly.  “It’s been that kind of week,” he admitted.

Tilting his head, Clint studied Phil for a moment.  There was a tension in Phil’s shoulders that Clint wasn’t used to, and every so often Phil’s eyes would flick away to scan the diner.  He looked… nervous.  Clint _really_ hoped that wasn’t because he’d never called after the whole phone number thing.  Sure, they’d texted a lot over the last week and Phil’s dry wit always made him grin, but Clint had probably been supposed to call.  Normal people probably called.  This was why Clint sucked at dating.

“Ah…” Clint said, a growing sense of awkwardness making him feel rough and clumsy.

“But you’re okay?” Phil interrupted, his mouth still not-frowning.

Clint squinted at him, because this was hardly the first time Phil had seen him with bruises.  The last time, when Clint had staggered into _Bean There, Done That_ with half his jaw an angry purple colour, Phil had even given him a free coffee with a curly straw sticking out of it.  Now that Clint thought about it, Phil had had the pinched not-frown on his face then too.

Oh.   _Oh_.  For a second, Clint was stunned.  “Were you… worried?” he blurted.

“I’m always worried about you,” Phil admitted softly, looking down at his coffee cup.

Clint blinked, unsure of what to say.  He wasn’t used to people worrying about him.  Natasha and Jasper did, of course - they were _family_ \- but they were also usually caught up in the same trouble as Clint.  To see that _Phil_ had worried about him sent something warm bursting through his chest.  Ducking his head, Clint grinned at his pancakes for a second.  “I’m okay,” he replied.  “I’m tougher than I look.”

Phil nodded, smiling back and sipped his coffee.  When his gaze flicked away to scan the diner again, Clint used the opportunity to study him.  “What about you?” he asked, knocking one of Phil’s sneakers with his boot.  “Are _you_ okay?”

Glancing back, Phil looked startled for a moment, before he swallowed and pasted a clearly fake smile on his face.  “Of course,” he replied.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Okay,” Clint said, shoving another bite of pancake in his mouth.  If Phil didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push.

Five seconds later, Phil grimaced and sighed.  “Sometimes I can’t sleep.  Going running usually helps.”

Only it hadn’t helped that morning.  Clint didn’t need magic to work that one out.  He nudged his plate of pancakes towards Phil.  “You should eat something,” he said.  “It’ll help.”

“Help me get diabetes, maybe,” Phil said, eyeing the amount of maple syrup over everything.  The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth made the edges of his eyes crinkle.

“You know, I don’t have to share my amazing pancakes with you…” Clint teased, slowly pulling his plate away again.

Reaching out, Phil snagged a piece of bacon off the other plate.  He chuckled softly around his stolen mouthful as Clint growled in protest.  Mostly, Clint was just protesting for the sake of it - he was happy to see Phil’s shoulders relaxing and the lines easing on his face.  “So,” Clint said, jabbing his fork at another piece of pancake.  “Anything interesting happen lately?”

Phil arched an eyebrow.  “That depends on your definition of interesting.”

“Oh, come on," Clint grumbled teasingly.  “You can’t say something like that and not explain.”

His eyes crinkling again, Phil shook his head.  “It’s only my continued confusion at whether May and Ward want to sleep with each other or kill each other,” he said.

Clint chuckled.   Both Melinda May and Grant Ward worked at _Bean There, Done That_.  Melinda was Phil’s scary assistant manager, who rarely cracked a smile and buzzed with some sort of residual magical energy every time Clint got close.  Mostly, he’d avoided thinking about why, because Clint didn’t want to be the one to tell Phil.  There was also the fact that Clint couldn’t figure out exactly _why_ Melinda made his magical senses go crazy.  Grant Ward, on the other hand, was boringly human, if a little awkward.  As far as Clint knew, he’d gotten a job with Phil while he was putting himself through grad school and then just never left.  Clint wouldn’t mind so much, except Ward was about as fond of smiling as Melinda was.

Now that Clint thought about it, maybe Ward and Melinda _were_ sleeping together.

“Natasha was in twice yesterday,” Phil added, sipping his coffee.  “She was grumbling something about getting addicted to coffee?”

Clint bit his lip to hide his grin.  “I am in no way responsible for that,” he protested.  “Natasha is a grown, very scary and very badass woman. If she really didn’t want to do something, she’d break me into little, tiny pieces.”

Phil shook his head again, but he was smiling.  Slowly, the conversation turned to other topics.  Clint had always found it easy to talk to Phil, even when he couldn't tell Phil about all the magic.  Phil was a really good listener, and had a wry, sarcastic sense of humour when he wasn't telling awful jokes.  Clint was laughing at Phil’s story about the latest disaster with one of his suppliers, when the sharp ring of Phil’s phone broke the warm atmosphere.  Phil dug the cell out of his pocket, before grimacing slightly at the name on the screen.  “Sorry,” he said, climbing to his feet.  “I have to take this.”

“Sure,” Clint replied.  He felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of Phil having to leave.

Feeling something tugging at his jacket, Clint looked down to see Jasper’s face poking out of his pocket.  Rolling his eyes, Clint handed the imp another piece of pancake.  Instead of cramming it into his mouth, Jasper gripped the pancake with both hands and glared up at Clint.  “If this is what you’re always like on your dates, I’m beginning to understand why you’re such a disaster,” Jasper grumbled.

“I… _what_?” Clint hissed, feeling his face heat.  He furtively glanced up, but no one was paying him any attention.  “This isn’t a date.”

Jasper rolled his eyes.  “You’re sharing food and flirting.  It’s a date.”

“Shut up,” Clint muttered.

“Just ask him out to dinner already,” Jasper whispered, before taking a bite of pancake.

Spotting Phil heading back towards their booth, Clint let out a breath and straightened his shoulders.  Phil gave him a tight smile as he walked up, and Clint bit back a wistful sigh when Phil didn’t slide back into the booth.  “Sorry,” Phil apologized.  “That was Skye. She forgot her keys.  I need to go let her in.”

Clint nodded, knowing all about Phil’s smart but slightly disorganized barista.  Skye was the type of woman to pick locks when she forgot her keys to the coffee shop, so Clint knew why Phil wanted to head back.  While those were usually the kind of skills Clint admired, he was slightly scared of the rumours that Skye had once found a backdoor into the FBI’s computer system on her lunch break.  Glancing at the clock on the dinner wall, Clint blinked a little when he realized it was almost six.  He and Phil had talked for almost an hour.  “I’ll walk you back," he offered, climbing to his feet and sliding enough money under his plate to cover his breakfast and a decent tip.

The air was chill when he stepped out of the diner, and Clint shivered as he flicked up the collar of his jacket.  Beside him, Phil tucked his hands into his pockets, which made Clint irrationally sad.  Apparently Clint had regressed back to junior high and wanted to hold hands with his crush. Or at least, Clint figured junior high was like that.  It wasn’t as if he’d ever attended.  The circus hadn’t been big on staying in one place.  He fell into step beside Phil as the other man headed in the direction of _Bean There, Done That_.  Their shoulders brushed as they walked, and Clint had to bite back another smile.  Despite what Jasper said about his dating skills, he didn’t mind just hanging out with Phil.  The quiet between them was solid and familiar, and… nice.  Like he and Phil didn't need to fill up space if they didn’t want to.

When Phil turned away to hide a yawn for the second time, Clint bumped Phil’s shoulder with his.  “Are you going to sleep after you let Skye in?” he asked.

Phil shrugged, looking a little sheepish.  “Probably not,” he admitted.

Clint frowned, but he didn’t push either.  Gods knew, Clint wasn’t that great at keeping regular hours, or really even sleeping at all sometimes.  “Okay,” he said.  At Phil’s quizzical look, he shrugged.  “I’d offer a solution to sleep better, but I’m not sure we’re at that stage in our relationship.”

Phil blinked a little, his eyes sliding away from Clint’s.  “No, I guess we’re not,” he muttered, before turned back with a polite - and entirely fake - smile.  “Don’t worry, I’ll catch some sleep this afternoon.”

“Hey,” Clint said, reaching out to grab Phil’s arm.  He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but Phil was pulling away from him right in front of his eyes, even if he was still standing next to Clint.  By now, they were almost at the coffee shop and Clint could already see Skye standing in the distance.  He had to say something before Phil disappeared.  With a deep breath, Clint mustered up his courage.  “I meant that, you know.  About the relationship.  I know I’ve been an asshole and never called, but I really was going to.”  He cleared his throat.  His palms were actually sweating.  “So, um, I was wondering if you might wanna maybe grab dinner or something some night?  I mean, with me?”

A slow, slightly shy smile stole across Phil’s face.  “Yes.  I would.  Very much.”

“Okay.”  Clint grinned.  “Awesome.”

Phil glanced over to where Skye was watching them with unabashed curiosity.  “I should probably go,” he said.

“Right.  Yeah.  Okay,” Clint replied, barely resisting the urge to shove his hands into  his pockets.

Phil waved to Skye, who happily waved back, before flashing Phil a double thumbs up.  Clint tried to hide his smile as the tips of Phil’s ears went pink.  Phil cleared his throat.  “Did you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” he offered.  “It won’t take long for the machine to warm up.”

“Normally, my answer to that would be hell yes, but I’m also pretty sure if I don’t sleep soon, bad things are going to happen,” Clint said with a sigh.  Mainly bad things in the form of Jasper and Natasha, but Clint knew that when he stayed awake too long, his magic went screwy too.  At Phil’s worried look, he shrugged sheepishly.  “I’ve kind of lost count, but I don’t think I’ve been awake for two days straight again.”

Probably.

A wry smile pulled at the corner of Phil’s mouth.  “I’d say something about that, but I’m not exactly a good example myself right now.”

“Nah,” Clint teased.  “Phil Coulson is always an example of everything awesome and good.”

“There are plenty of things I’m bad at, you know,” Phil replied.

Clint grinned.  “I look forward to finding out what they are,” he said.

The tips of Phil’s ears went pink again.  “I’ll see you later?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Clint said.

For a second, Phil hesitated.  Then he turned back to Clint and took one of Clint’s hands, his palm warm against Clint’s chilled skin.  Helpless to resist Phil’s soft smile, Clint let himself be drawn in until Phil’s strong arms were wrapped around him.  He swallowed.  It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him like this, and for a moment, Clint didn’t know what to do.  Slowly, he reached up to wrap his own arms around Phil.  As Clint relaxed, leaning more of his weight against Phil, he had the fleeting wish to use his magic to lock this moment away on his memory forever.

“Just be carefully, okay?” Phil whispered in his ear, Phil’s warm breath sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah,” Clint replied.  “Okay.”

Pulling away, Phil sent him another soft smile, before turning and heading over to where Skye was waiting.  Clint watched him go, a confusing tangle of emotions trapped beneath his ribs.  Premonition wasn’t one of Clint’s powers, but he still knew that he could easily end up falling head over heels in love with Phil Coulson.  He was halfway there already.  “Oh, you’re going to be really annoying for days now, aren’t you,” Jasper grumbled from Clint’s pocket.

“What do you mean?” Clint asked the imp.

As Phil fished out his keys and said something to Skye, he glanced back at Clint and waved.  With a smile, Clint waved back.

“I mean with the smiling and the humming and the ‘I’m-in-love’ shit,” Jasper replied.  When Clint glanced down, the imp had his hands crossed over his chest.

Clint grinned, mainly because he probably would.  “Shut up, Jasper.”

Besides, Clint had a date to plan.

 ****  
Fin


End file.
